Lost Chances
by Jollification
Summary: Bobby spared one last glance to the kid, who was cautiously staring at him from behind a display of chips at the end of the aisle. Something in Bobby’s gut was bugging him about the kid, something wasn’t quite right.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Own nothing but the plot

**Author:** Jollification

**Rating:** T for death of child and swearing

* * *

-

-

Lost Chances

-

-

The metallic crack of the screen door hitting the house rings out in the morning air.

Run. Run. Run.

The muscles in his legs ache. His lungs take in and blow out frigid air quickly, willing him to run faster. Angry screams can be heard radiating out of the house, he's scared…but he's even more scared at the thought of what will happen to him if he slows. The angry bruises on his arms and back ache, as if reminding him of what he's running from.

The houses around him are a blur as he pumps his legs faster, attempting to gain speed. He doesn't give a thought as to where he's running, he just runs. The hair on the back of his neck stands up, and a cold sweat starts to accumulate on his forehead. Ignoring the protest of his burning legs, he picks up his pace, running forward.

After what seems like an eternity of sprinting, he stops, falling to the ground in a heap, gasping for air. The cold air hurts his lungs and he coughs. Jack coughs more, the quick intake of air making him dizzy. He rubs his eyes, as if willing to make the distortion of his sight go away. Better.

Chest rising and falling quickly, he surveys his surroundings. The dull brown and red of brick buildings line his sight.

He doesn't know where he is.

A quick sliver of fear runs through him.

'_How far did I run?'_ he thinks to himself.

Pushing himself up off the street, he looks around again. An old couple walks side-by-side, arms clasped together, down the sidewalk. Walking past Jack, the two throw him a questioning look.

He turns away from their stares and walks onto the sidewalk casually, walking in the opposite direction of the elderly people; the last thing he wants is a grown up to ask him questions. He glances over his shoulder quickly to see if they're following him. They're further away now, not giving him a thought in the world, going about their business. Jack lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He didn't want to get caught, if someone realized he ran away from his foster father, they would tote him back to that place.

'_No way,'_ he thinks to himself.

Adults would only get him in trouble.

The wind cuts through the air, tussling his blonde hair.

"Damn, it's cold," he mutters to himself. It's not just cold, it's freezing. His teeth chatter against his will, and he looks down at the oversized sweater and baggy pants he's wearing.

Maybe he should have given this more thought. Maybe he should have packed a bag or something?

It had been a spur of the moment action; he had to do it, he didn't have time to think.

His thoughts wandered to earlier, to what made him sprint out the door, not looking back.

-

_His stomach gurgled painfully. He was hungry. He just needed something to keep him going for the day. _

_He had not eaten in two days._

_Jack creaked his door open slightly, eyes landing on his drunk foster father sprawled in the blue recliner in front of the television. The television was on, but muted, making Jack's plan of action more demanding. He watched his foster parent for a few more seconds, making sure he was really awake._

_All Jack needed to do was make a squeak, and if his foster father woke up he would be beat with the belt._

_Burning fear shot up his spine, but the gurgle of his stomach drowned it out._

_He opened his door further and put a foot out, hoping the floorboards wouldn't creak under his weight. Jack took small baby steps, trying to be silent. He tiptoed to the kitchen, making his way past his snoring foster father, eyes locked on the man, watching for the slightest movement that would indicate he had woken up._

_Jack took another step._

_The man brought up his arm._

_Jack froze, like a deer in headlights._

_The man scratched his nose, snorted, mumbled something unintelligible, and went back to snoring._

_Jack's leg muscles loosened; he had been ready to sprint back to his room. He took a small breath and inched closer towards the kitchen door. After what seemed like an eternity of measured and calculated steps, he was finally in the kitchen. Jack gave one last glance behind him, making sure the man had not awakened. Snoring met his ears, and he gave a small smile. Dare he hope he would actually get something to eat?_

_The 10 year old surveyed the kitchen, eyes wandering the counters for anything edible. _

_Nothing._

_He padded over to one of the cabinets, standing on the tips of his ragged sneakers, willing himself to reach the handle of the cabinet. With much stretching, he silently opened the small door. Inside was a box of Cheerios, already opened. It was the only thing he could take. His foster father wouldn't realize any was missing…hopefully. Reaching up, he grabbed the box, the sound of muffled cereal shifting inside. Jack glanced back over to where his foster parent laid in the other room, still asleep._

_Maybe this would work out._

_He took a plastic bowl and spoon that had been thrown into the dishes, wiping them out. They would have to do. Jack popped the flaps of the box open, cupped the opening of the box, and poured the Cheerios into the bowl. A few dull clanks came from the bowl as the cereal filled it. _

_Finally having the desired amount, he quickly but quietly propped the cabinet open and stuck the box back exactly where it had been._

_Proud of himself, Jack quietly picked up the bowl, stuck his spoon in and took a bite of the dry cereal._

_Jack smiled at how good the Cheerios tasted. His stomach happily silenced itself at the single bite of dry cereal. It was a little dry. Hearing the snoring in the other room still, he glanced at the fridge._

'_He won't miss a little milk, will he?' he asked himself. Deciding that to just take a little, he popped the fridge open, cool air blasting his face temporarily. Jack eyed the gallon of milk. He grasped the handle of the milk, pulling it towards him, when the unthinkable happened._

_The milk was heavier than he anticipated, and it fell from his grasp, hitting the ground with a loud plop. The white liquid gushed out all over the floor, flooding Jack's sneakers and wetting the frayed bottoms of his dragging jeans._

_His face went pale as fear shot up his spine._

"_What the fuck do you think you're doing?" an angry voice accosted him. His foster father was up. Taking in the sight before him, the man's face grew red. "Fucking stealing food from me you little piece of shit, after all the shit I do for you?!" the man screamed at Jack. The man lunged at Jack, grabbing a handful of the boy's tousled hair._

_The screen door entered Jack's line of view, and only one thought entered his mind._

_Run._

_Quickly thinking, Jack slammed his sneakered foot down on the man's bare foot, earning a scream from the man._

_"You little son of a…" the man yelled, but Jack was already out the door, sprinting down the street as fast as he could._

-

Jack smiled at himself, remembering how good it felt to step on that bastard's foot.

"He deserved it," he stated out loud to himself. The cold air danced around him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He shivered and looked down the street again, his eyes landing on a small store at the corner of the brick buildings. At least he thought it was a store. He walked towards it, looking into the windows to make sure it was indeed a store. He let out a small breath when rows of food and magazines met his sight. Jack stared into the store, there were only two people inside. Jack leaned close to the window and his warm breath fogged up the window, blocking his sight. He rubbed the fog away. The wind swept back up, and he involuntarily shivered.

He would go inside for a little bit, just to get out of the cold.

Jack walked to the door of the store and pushed it open, warm air bursting out of the opening. A bell jingled somewhere, signaling that someone entered the shop. He stepped in.

The old cashier looked up from behind the counter, sizing Jack up. He probably just looked like another punk to the man. Jack gave a shy smile and dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet down one of the aisles. Doritos and various junk food lined the racks, and Jack's stomach gave a little growl, remembering that it never got to finish the cereal from earlier. Jack ignored his stomach.

The other man in the store walked up to the register. Jack glanced at the man sideways from the junk food aisle. The man looked to be maybe in his twenties, with slicked back brown hair, and a black leather jacket on. The jacket had some sort of sports team logo on it. The man, feeling eyes on him, glanced over his shoulder seeing Jack eyeing him. The man smirked.

'_Some kid probably trying to steal some candy or some shit,'_ he laughed to himself. Bobby remembered himself at that age. He looked at the kid, and took in his appearance. The kid was scrawny, even with the big sweatshirt on, his jeans were torn and looked too big, and his shoes looked like they had seen better days. The kid's hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed, spikes of dirty blond hair poking from odd angles.

Bobby raised an eyebrow.

Big blue eyes stared back at him, watching his every move. The kid looked jumpy, like he was ready to sprint from the store at the first sign of trouble.

"Is that all, sir?" the old man spoke from behind the counter, pulling Bobby from his musings. He turned back to the man.

"Yeah, that's it," he answered. He handed the cashier the money and took his stuff from the man. Bobby turned around to walk to the door, noting that the kid had moved to the far end of the aisle away from Bobby.

Bobby spared one last glance to the kid, who was cautiously staring at him from behind a display of chips at the end of the aisle. Something in Bobby's gut was bugging him about the kid, something wasn't quite right. He brushed off the feeling. He had to get this food home soon or Ma would smack him upside the head. Bobby pushed the door open, making his way out of the store, the tingling of the bell echoing into the street.

-

-

-

* * *

Please tell me what you think, I'm always up for reviews, or tips. What will happen next? Find out soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them!

-

-

* * *

Jack heaved a sigh of relief. He was glad the man had left; he looked pretty intimidating.

He turned his attention to the display of chips he had been hiding behind. His empty stomach gave an animalistic growl at the close proximity of the chips. He was hungry. No, not hungry, starving. He looked at the chips again, longingly. He didn't have any money.

'_Maybe I can just…'_ he contemplated. Jack had always gotten beat when he took food. His eyes darted to the old man behind the counter, who was staring back at Jack, eyes watching him like a hawk. Maybe if Jack could run fast enough, he could get away with the chips. He started fidgeting, thinking of what he should do. He contemplated his choices. Jack was starving, but if he stole the chips he would have to run back out into the freezing weather…and it was _really_ cold out there.

The clearing of someone's throat brought him out of his thoughts.

"Can I help you young man?" the old man behind the counter asked. Jack swallowed. The cashier knew something was up.

He tore his eyes away from the alluring chips.

"N-no sir, I'm just…looking," he answered nervously.

The old man squinted his eyes at Jack, taking in his appearance, trying to judge if the scrawny boy was telling the truth or not. There were always kids in here trying to take things: candy, magazines, booze, cigarettes, you name it. Jack heard the old man sigh.

"You better not be trying to steal anything or I'm gonna call the cops," he warned. Threatening to call the cops always worked to scare the kids.

"N-no I wasn't gonna take anything," he lied. He didn't want to be arrested…than they would ship him back to his foster father. Jack hadn't thought about that. If he got caught they would send him back there.

'_No way, I'm not going back there,'_ he mentally asserted.

His stomach growled loudly.

Maybe the old man was bluffing, he wouldn't call the cops over something as meaningless as a stolen bag of chips…would he? Jack looked out the window of the store. There was still some dirty snow on the ground from last week's snowfall. He stomach gave another gurgle.

He needed food. Now.

Jack gave one last quick glance to the man behind the counter, and he eyed the door. He picked up the chips and started to walk casually to the counter, checking one last time to see if anyone was coming into the store. The old man smiled at him.

Jack smiled back.

Then he sprinted past the cash register, chips in hand, ignoring the angry calls of the cashier telling him to come back and that he was calling the cops.

Jerking the door of the store open quickly, Jack ran down the empty street, quickly looking over his shoulder to make sure the old man wasn't following. He wasn't. Jack smirked to himself, proud that he didn't get caught. He continued running down the street, taking a few random turns. After running for a few more moments, he came to a halt, breathing in the crisp cold air. He looked at the bag of chips in his hand and tore it open, quickly emptying out the bag.

Feeling full and satisfied, he looked around for a garbage can. His eyes landed on one across the street and made his way slowly over to it.

Throwing the bag in, his hands were now empty, and he regretted eating the chips so quickly. Not having the chips to fill his mind, Jack realized just how cold it was outside. He couldn't feel his face and his bare hands were starting to sting from the cold. The frigid air cut through his thin sweater like it wasn't even there. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

Balling his hands into fists, he stuffed them into his pockets, hoping to fight off the chill. He sighed, releasing a puff of white air out of his mouth.

It was really cold.

Jack glanced down the sidewalks, seeing no one in sight, and decided to wander. Maybe he could find somewhere to get out of the cold.

-

Bobby opened the door of his house, barley avoiding being knocked over by his 16-year-old brother. Pissed off at almost having the groceries knocked from his hands, he yelled at Angel.

"Where the fuck are you going?" he asked. "Learn to watch where you're going Angel, Ma would have had a fuckin' fit if you made me drop the groceries!" he added.

"I was going out…to see some friends," he lied. Angel hoped his brother was stupid enough to fall for his fake alibi.

"You don't have any friends Angel," Bobby retorted "you goin' to see that crazy Spanish girl?" he questioned. "You've known her for what, a week, and your already tryin' to move in on that?" he taunted his brother.

Maybe Bobby wasn't as stupid as he looked. Angel tried to deny it. "I don't know what you're talkin' about Bobby, I'm not goin' to see Sophie!" he yelled.

"So that's her name? Sophie? You should call her La Vida Loca!" Bobby laughed. His little brother looked flustered.

"Don't call her that man!" Angel warned protectively. He really like this girl, no way was he going to have his brother joking her.

"Man, whatever Angel, just get out of here and get back before dinner," he told him, turning from his brother. He opened the door and entered the warm house, giving a sigh of relief.

"It's fuckin' freezing out there," he said allowed, announcing he was home. He heard movement in the kitchen.

"They said it's going to drop to zero tonight, maybe even snow some more," he heard his mother answer from the kitchen. "Do you have the groceries?" she questioned.

Rolling his eyes he moved into the kitchen where his mother was busily cleaning dishes.

"What'd you think Ma, I was out at a bar?" he joked, "of course I got the groceries."

"Knowing you Bobby, maybe" She laughed putting her hands on her hips. Bobby set the bags on the counter.

"What are you making tonight?" he questioned.

"I'm not making anything," she answered "I'm having Jerry make some spaghetti tonight, I have to go check up on a case". Bobby raised an eyebrow. Jerry cooking? No way in Hell. He wanted to try and avoid Jerry's cooking at all costs, but when his Mom had a case she got into, she really got into it.

"What is it this time?" he questioned.

"Oh, just a boy," she stated "I have a good feeling about him, I've seen him a few times before and well, maybe…" she paused.

Bobby waited. "Maybe?" he coaxed.

"Well, I was maybe thinking about…adopting him," she stated bluntly.

Bobby's mouth fell open. Adopting? Was she crazy? Didn't she have her hands full enough with him, Jerry, and Angel? He voiced his concern.

"What? You want to adopt him? Why?" he asked.

"Oh Bobby, he needs a Mom," she quickly answered "I think it would do him good to have some brothers too," she added.

Bobby sighed. Evelyn had always been like this. He didn't know how she could give so much love, and she always seemed to pick out the kids who needed the most. He remembered when he had first met her, how he had been so sick of all the social workers that he had been stuck with, and how she just smiled at him. She wasn't cold like the other social workers, who just wanted to get out of the room he was in. Bobby had been a terror of a kid, the worst of the worst. If he didn't curse at a new social worker, he would try to fight with them. But not with Evelyn. She was patient and kind, and wanted to genuinely help him. So naturally, when no other family would take him, she took the job onto herself.

He smiled as he remembered the day Evelyn adopted him; it was one of the happiest days he had had in a long time.

His mother talking pulled him out of his memories.

"-I guess I'll be back around seven tonight," she continued, not realizing Bobby hadn't been listening. Bobby glanced at the clock above the fridge. It read three o'clock. He shrugged.

"Maybe I'll just go get some food somewhere in town," he started "I don't want to be poisoned by Jerry's cooking," he joked, knowing his mother would defend her other son.

"Bobby Mercer, your brother is a fine cook," she assured "…besides, who can mess up spaghetti?" she questioned. Bobby had to laugh at that, if there was one person who could burn spaghetti, it was Jerry. As if on cue the 19 year old bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, skidding to a halt when he saw his brother laughing. Jerry was confused.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothin' to get flustered about princess," Bobby joked his brother.

A flicker of anger passed over Jerry's face. "Man, shut up Bobby!" he growled at his still laughing brother. Evelyn decided to break up the two while she still could.

"Alright boys, that's enough," she playfully chastised. "I have to get going," she stated "Jeremiah you should start dinner around five o'clock, and wrap up the leftovers and put them in the fridge," she instructed. Jerry nodded at the simple directions. Evelyn turned to Bobby.

"And Bobby, no eating out…" she warned, "…and don't start trouble either," she added.

"Would never dream of missing my brother's cooking," he joked.

Evelyn smiled, "I'll see you boys later alright?" she said walking to the closet, pulling out her coat.

"Bye, Ma," the boys said in unison. After hearing the click of the door closing, signifying Evelyn had left, Bobby turned to his younger brother.

"Has Ma ever said anything to you about adopting another kid?" he questioned.

Jerry raised his eyebrows. "Ma's adopting another kid?" he asked.

Obviously, Jerry had no idea what was going on. Bobby let out an exasperated sigh. "Forget it," he countered. Glancing at the clock again, he realized they had a few hours to spare before Jerry had to start making "dinner". Bobby felt like playing some hockey. "Come on Jerry, go get your skates and hockey stick, I feel like whoopin' your ass up and down the ice," he instigated.

Jerry gave Bobby an irritated glare. "First off Bobby, we can't play with two people, and second, I can whoop your ass any day of the week in hockey," Jerry stated matter-of-factly.

"Don't worry, I'll get some people together…but if you're scared…" Bobby offered.

"Alright, you're on," Jerry stated before turning from Bobby to go get his skates and hockey stick. Bobby already had he skates and hockey stick in the trunk of his car. They could drive over to the rink down the street after hitting up a few of his friend's houses, no way would they turn him down for a game.

Waiting for Jerry to get his things together, Bobby thought about the possibility of having another brother. He probably wouldn't see the kid very much, since he was busy playing hockey…well, if he kept on getting probations like he has been, maybe he would see the kid a lot. Bobby could always teach the kid how to play hockey, he supposed.

Bobby's ponderings were interrupted as the sound of Jerry's feet pounding down the stairs entered his ears. Bobby smiled.

This was going to be a fun game.

-

Evelyn Mercer walked up to the house that Jack lived at. It was an old brick house with a few missing shingles and a skeletal like old television antenna sticking out of the roof. She walked up to the metal screen door and knocked loudly, hoping to catch the attention of anyone inside.

She waited.

Nothing.

She knocked again, louder. Jack's foster father knew that she was coming by today to check up on Jack, where could they be?

She knocked again, and this time, loud pounding could be heard approaching the door, someone started to yell.

"You little shit, I don't believe you had the balls to come back after wha-," Jack's foster father flinged the metal screen door open. Eyes landing on Evelyn, he quickly quieted his ranting.

"Mr. Dyer, did you forget I was coming by today?" Evelyn spoke professionally. She had dealt with people like Mr. Dyer before. They always forgot their social workers were coming over and would panic. But this reason was not the reason Evelyn did not particularly like Mr. Dyer. Jack, a totally innocent boy, who had been through more in his life than he should have ever been, got stuck with Mr. Dyer. When she got assigned to Jack's case, just to check up every so often, she found bruises on the boy. After a few more meetings, Evelyn realized the boy was being continually beaten. The poor thing would have black, blue, purple and yellow bruises covering his arms and back. Once he even had a black eye. That was the final straw for Evelyn, and she immediately started looking into adopting Jack.

Today was the day she was going to inform Mr. Dyer that Jack would no longer be in his custody.

She spoke up again. "Mr. Dyer, did you forget I was coming today?" she asked. The man looked blankly at Evelyn.

"No, I didn't forget, things just got out of hand, and I lost…track of time," he lied.

"May I ask where Jack is?" she questioned. The man looked uncomfortable.

"He..uh..that…that little fuck ran off this morning and I haven't seen him since," he spoke rudely.

Evelyn was shocked, not only by his choice of words used to describe Jack, but also the fact that he lost the boy. "He went missing and you didn't report it?" she pressed.

"I figured he would come back when he was hungry!" the man said, his voice escalating. Evelyn was never one to get mad, but this man plucked at her nerves.

"Mr. Dyer, once we find Jack, he will no longer be in your custody, and you will most likely be sued for child endangerment," she informed him, her tone dangerous.

The man turned red in the face. "It's not my fault the little shit ran off!" he hollered.

Evelyn ignored the man, already walking back to her car. She had to inform the police that Jack was missing immediately. Who knew what could happen to a 10 year old child? She couldn't help but let a feeling of worry trickle into her mind. Where was Jack? Was he okay? They needed to find Jack, and soon; it was supposed to get very cold tonight.

Evelyn got into her car and sped to the police station.

-

-

-

* * *

Please review or tell me what you think! I tried to get the character's personalities close, I don't know, I think there should have been more cursing.


	3. Chapter 3

The last chapter! Sorry for the wait, and thanks for all the reviews!

-

-

-

* * *

Bobby made his way up to the door of his home, Jerry lagged behind.

It had been a good game after all.

They had gathered some of Bobby's friends and gone to the rink 5 blocks down. All together they had seven guys, so they had split up into two groups of four and three. Bobby was in the group of three, needless to say, Bobby's team had won. Jerry had been on the opposite team, and was now sporting a busted lip as a trophy for losing. Bobby heard a frustrated sigh behind him, he turned to see his brother, worn out from the game.

"Nice lip, beautiful," Bobby teased.

Jerry's eyes narrowed. "How would you like a lip to match?" he threatened his older brother. Bobby laughed out loud.

"You couldn't even hit me if you tried," he instigated holding up his fists. He playfully punched Jerry in the shoulder. Jerry let out a tired sigh.

"Man, Bobby, I know you're always looking for a fight but please, give it a rest, I've had enough for today," he said, absentmindedly touching his bruised lip.

Bobby let out a breath of frosted air. "Alright princess, don't get your panties in a knot," he joked. Jerry scowled and pushed past Bobby, making his way up the steps of their house and opening the door. He promptly slammed it in Bobby's face.

"What did the door ever do to you princess?" Bobby asked loud enough he was sure Jerry could hear him, even from inside.

Bobby tapped his snowy boots on the worn 'Welcome' mat and stepped inside. The lights were on in the house, had he left them on when they left? He took off his coat and hung it up in the nearby closet, he took off his hat and gloves and threw them casually into the bottom of the closet.

A grumble in his stomach reminded him of how hungry he was, he hadn't eaten since before the game. He made he way to the kitchen, Jerry and his cooking be damned, he'd make his own food. Besides, if he let Jerry cook his dinner in the state he was in, Bobby would end up with laxatives in his food.

He mentally cringed at the last time that had happened.

Bobby turned quickly to the fridge and swung it open, going for the nearest thing: leftover pizza. Bobby smiled to himself.

"What did I tell you about eating when your brother is cooking?" some one questioned.

Bobby jumped slightly, not realizing anyone had been in the kitchen, he quickly turned. Evelyn.

"Christ, Ma, you tryin' to give me a heart attack?" he asked his mother.

Evelyn was sitting at the table, a cup of steaming tea in her hands, and a yellow folder in front of her. She looked exhausted.

"If you keep on eating left over pizza all the time, maybe you will have a heart attack," she joked.

Bobby let out a quiet 'Psh' and put the pizza back into the fridge. "When did you get home Ma, I thought you had a kid to look after?" he asked. Evelyn let out a tired sigh, and brought her hands up to her face. She rubbed her face, as if trying to get the feeling of exhaustion to leave her. She sighed.

"They can't find Jack," she stated.

"Who?"

"Jack, they can't find Jack, the boy I was thinking about adopting," she answered, a note of sadness lacing her voice. Bobby thought her eyes looked a little wet, but she quickly rubbed them, banishing all possibilities.

"What do you mean can't find him?" he asked.

"His caretaker said he ran off this morning, and that…that bastard didn't even call to say Jack was missing!" she angrily explained.

Bobby was caught of guard. This must be really serious, because his mother never cursed, never. For her to not be able to use any other word but 'bastard' meant the situation was bad. He had only heard her curse once before, and that was when Angel had come home one night beaten to a bloody pulp after some kids he owed money to jumped him.

"Jeez Ma," he said.

She looked slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry Bobby, but poor Jack, he doesn't deserve any of this," she explained. She brought the cup of tea to her lips and took a quick sip, the steam rising above her head.

"Well, what did you do?"

"I went down to the police station," she stated, ignoring the sound of disapproval from Bobby, "a said there was a missing child."

"They'll never get anything done," Bobby mumbled.

"Don't say that, they're the only chance we have," she defended.

She let out a sigh, as if she didn't believe her own words. Evelyn pulled the yellow folder to her that had been casually taking up space. She flipped the front open and stared at the front page, the photo of a boy staring back at her. "To think he's out there by himself, God knows where he could be…" she said quietly, almost as if Bobby wasn't in the room.

-

Jack shook in his oversized sweater. It was getting colder.

He slowly padded his way down the sidewalk, going nowhere in particular. Every so often he would give a casual glance backwards, just to make sure no one was following him. The gray-clouded sky was getting darker with the setting of the hidden sun. A violent shudder rocked the boy as a gust of chilly wind blew over him. He had long since lost the feelings in his fingers, toes, and face.

He had to get out of this weather, but where could he go?

'_Maybe I could just go into a store for a while…'_ he thought to himself. He evaluated the street he was on, and was greeted with a barbershop and what looked like a bike shop. He slowly made his way to the barbershop hoping to be able to step in for just a few moments, to escape the chill, but a red 'Closed' sign greeted him in the window. Jack let out a frustrated sigh.

He quickly crossed the street, ready to jump into the bike shop when he spotted something turning down the street.

A cop car.

'_Are you kidding me?!'_ he thought quickly.

Had that old cashier really called the cops? It was just a bag of chips!

Jack froze, but not from the freezing temperatures.

If they caught him, he would be sent back to his foster father, and that would mean…another beating.

'No way am I going back there,' he mentally stated. Instead of going into the bike shop to escape the temperature, he turned and went down the alley beside the shop. Garbage cans and assorted brown boxes littered the ground of the alley. The cop car slowly rolled by.

Jack let out a frosted breath he hadn't know he was holding.

He followed the dirty pathway until it led back to another street. Jack had to get out of sight, if the cops were looking for him he couldn't go into a shop or something, than they would catch him. The street he came out on was lined with what looked like old houses. Jack's line of sight followed the block down and landed on- a playground. Jack smiled. They would never find him there!

He quickly made his way to the playground, where yellow and red tubes entangled one another, and a green swing set moved in the frosty wind. The ten year old glanced around him, checking to see if anyone was watching him. It was dark now, the sun having set.

Seeing no one, he slid into the red play tube.

It protected him from the bitter wind, but the freezing temperature still assaulted him. Jack curled into a tight ball, trying to keep warm.

Now that his mind wasn't preoccupied with trying to find a place to hide, he realized just how cold it was.

Every breath that left Jack hung in the air, and he was shivering violently. He rubbed his face, trying to bring back warmth to it, but all he felt was a muted cold feeling in both his face and his hands. He let out a sharp sigh.

He was exhausted and hungry. His stomach protested, but he ignored it. Jack was too preoccupied with trying to not think about the cold.

He let out a yawn, cold air filling his mouth as he did so.

'_Christ, I'm tired,'_ he thought to himself. He yawned again. Jack shifted in the small tube, turning his head to the opening of the tunnel, so he would be able to see anyone if they looked into the tunnel.

And for a time, he just stared at the opening. What else could he do?

His body was shaking so hard he could not control it. Jack heard a quiet clattering, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it was the sound of his teeth chattering. The freezing cold drifted slowly, and painfully into his body, he felt that somewhere in the back of his mind, this was a bad sign.

In what seemed like minutes, Jack started to nod off, the numbing cold seeping to his core. It was so cold. He had never felt this cold before. Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his frozen mind, he started to realize his eyes were closing, but his thought process was slow, like thoughts took too much energy to process.

He tried to stay awake, but he was too exhausted.

Eventually his eyes closed, and he felt what little sliver of strength he had left go numb.

-

There was a sharp intake of breath, and he jolted awake. For a moment he didn't know where he was.

Where was he?

He felt nothing.

He saw red.

Red?

Something answered him. _Playground. Hiding. Tired. Cold._

It was an odd sensation; he felt nothing. The only thing he was aware of was his thoughts, and those seemed to come at a tiring pace.

_So tired._

Tired.

_Move._ The single word rang out in his dulled mind, and for reasons unknown, Jack knew this word was important. Like he had to try and do it.

So he tried to move…but he didn't budge.

A small puff of frozen vapor left his mouth, and the faintest thud rang out in his chest.

_Heart. _

A horrible feeling swept over him. Panic.

And all at once it came rushing back to him. Running away, the chips, the cops, and the playground. He remembered everything.

And he was scared. His mind seemed to have frozen along with everything else in the world. Was he dying?

_Dying._

He was dying. He was scared. He was alone. No one would find him.

Jack tried to move, with all his strength, but he just faintly budged.

He wanted to cry, he was so scared. He attempted to shift his sight to the opening of the tube, and with the last of his strength, his eyesight met the outside.

It was snowing.

_Snow._

_Cold._

_Tired._

He was tired, the most tired he had ever been in his life. The feeling of panic went numb with cold.

And in the depths of his frozen mind, he knew this was it. He was so tired. Jack didn't care anymore.

His world went black.

Forever.

-

The woman yawned. Instantly regretting bringing her son to the playground.

It was still bitterly cold out, but compared to last night, this was heaven.

Yet her six-year-old still ran around the playground, seemingly unfazed by the cold weather. She took a sip of the coffee in her hands and sighed.

She watched as her son bounced about in the snow, darting into one of the playground's tubes.

She glanced around, looking for a bench to sit on.

The small sound of footsteps crunching through the snow met her ears.

"Mommy, Mommy!" her son shrieked.

She flinched. It was too early for this, why did she bring him out here again?

"Yes baby?" she asked her child, who seemed rather frazzled.

"Mommy, the boy won't play with me," he stomped his feet, "I want to play!" he protested.

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked around. What boy?

"What boy?" she asked. "I don't see anybody here, it's just you and me baby," she tried to explain. If this was another one of his imaginary friend scenarios again she was-

"The boy in the tunnel!" he informed. "I'll show you!" he said and darted away before she could grab him.

'_Oh no,'_ she thought, _'it's probably a homeless person in one of the play tubes,'_ she concluded.

"Wait, don't go over there!" she warned, but her son was already jumping up and down in front of the tunnel, pointing at something inside.

She made her way to the tube quickly, wanting to see if there was indeed a bum or an 'imaginary friend' hiding in the tube.

But what her eyes met shocked her.

There was a boy. He looked like he was sleeping. His skin was a snowy white, and his lips had an obvious tint of blue to them. He looked no older than ten years old. The boy was wrapped in a tight ball, and the only thing he had on was an oversized looking outfit, no coat or scarf. She froze.

She dropped her coffee and screamed.

-

Bobby tapped his snowy shoes on the 'Welcome' mat and barged into the house not so gracefully.

"Ma, I'm home," he yelled. He heard a sniffle come from the kitchen. What the-

He made his way into the kitchen and spotted Evelyn at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, crying softly.

Bobby was shocked. Had he ever seen his mother cry?

"Ma, what's wrong?" he asked, putting a hand on her back comfortingly. Evelyn gave one last quiet sob and sniffled. She wiped her eyes and turned them to her oldest son. She must have been crying for a long time, because her eyes were bloodshot. She looked a wreck. She sniffled again.

"Th-they found Jack," she stumbled slightly.

'Shit' was the only word Bobby could think.

"And," he coaxed, even though the sinking feeling in his stomach warned of the coming answer.

"A woman found him a-at the playground," she choked, "and he-he," she broke off. She brought her hands to her eyes and gave a small sob. She started crying again. Bobby sighed.

No. No way. Did the kid-

Bobby's eyes landed on a folder on the table, he hadn't noticed it before.

He grabbed the folder nothing the name 'Jack Emerson' on the tab of the folder. He flipped it open and took a sharp breath in.

Big blue eyes and spiky, dirty blond hair greeted him.

He couldn't believe it.

"Ma, is this the kid?" he asked, not believing it. Maybe there was a mix up or something?

"T-that's Jack," she spoke through the tears. "A woman found him…fr-frozen in one of the tubes at the playground," she stated, wiping her eyes.

"Frozen?" Bobby asked. Evelyn nodded. How could Bobby have missed it? The eerily familiar face of the boy he had seen in the store; that was Jack? Bobby felt all the color leech out of his face. He knew it. He knew something had been wrong when he had seen him. He should have done something.

Christ, the kid had looked so scared.

How could Bobby miss that chance? The kid had been right under his nose and he just waltzed out of the store without a second thought.

Jack was dead. He hadn't even started living his life yet.

Bobby placed the folder back onto the table, shocked.

He heard Evelyn say something.

"Bobby, Bobby, are you alright?" she questioned through her sniffles. What could he say to her? What would she say if she knew that Bobby had seen Jack?

"Nothin' Ma… I'm, uh…I'm just gonna go out for a bit…" he tried to make up an excuse.

_The boy was dead, and it was his fault._

"Alright, be careful," she spoke, "I don't want to lose someone else."

Bobby nodded his head, not saying another word.

He put on his coat and opened the door, cold air blowing in his face.

_It was all his fault, he had lost his chance._

-

-

-

* * *

Fin. Yeah, some parts may not make sense, like when Jack is freezing to death. But apparently when you freeze to death, your thought processes get slowed, so I tried to portray the confusion. Also, he is ten, so some of his actions may seem dumb to you, like running into the playground to hide, but ten year olds usually never want to get caught for doing something bad, coupled with the fact that he thought the cops were looking for him because he ran away, he especially didn't want to get caught. Tell me what you thought (aka review)!


End file.
